Whisper
by Weirdly
Summary: Harry Potter is left a broken man by the war, but he hides it well...only in his mind do the whispers surround him and drown him...they weren't true, weren't true...[I succumbed and wrote another fic from the POV of a psycho. Sorry.]


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related in any way shape or form. I like to think that I own this idea, though.**

**A/N: Hello. I have two comments to make. They're put in order of importance. You can decide whether I made it most important to least important or the other way around.**

**(1) Thank you to Tearful Joy and Darkwing731 for the beta, and (2) just so you know - most mistakes that you find are intentional. Of course, if you see an obvious typo then I wasn't thinking "Oh boy! Let's put an 'n' instead of a 'z' in 'zebra!' Woohoo! Now, _this_ is style!" No, I don't generally do that.**

**Shit. I do.**

**Anyway, enough of this. Here you go.**

Everybody whispers.

Some people say that it is _bad_ to _whisper_ about _other people's doings_ and why don't you _keep_ your _nose_ out of their _business_, but guess what they start to do when your back is turned?

Some people thought that Harry was _bitter_ but they would be wrong.

Some people thought that Harry was _still in love with Ginny_ but they would be wrong.

Some people thought that Harry was _mentally unstable_ but they would be wrong.

Right?

Nobody cares.

Wrong and right are not important. The _information_ is the key. The _transmission_ of the information. The _communication_. An essential part of human existence. And who better to _oblige_ the _whispers_ than the _Man Who Conquered_?

_Have you heard about Harry Potter?_

_Of course I have. But I don't like to gossip so I haven't listened to anything anyone's said._

_Oh but this isn't gossip. This is true._

_Fine. Tell me?_

_Remember who he was with in the Second and Third Uprisings?_

_Of course I have. Ginny Weasley. Ron Weasley's little sister._

_Yes well._

_But he's not with her anymore._

_She died. You hadn't heard?_

_I'd been hiding in the Rocky Mountains from the Third Uprising._

_That makes sense. Remember how she was some sort of grunt soldier?_

_Oh yes. And then had to tell people that their kids had died._

_Didn't deserve him did she?_

_I guess so._

_So she made him promise to keep on living if she died. She died in the late Fourth._

_All right._

_Potter just kind of smiled. Isn't that horrible?_

_Indeed. Why would he do that?_

_So after the Final Uprising he goes out with this war hero and marries her._

_So?_

_She has red hair._

_All right._

_They had a bunch of kids. But people say…that Potter's kind of psycho. They talk about some muggle._

_Whoa. Psycho? You're either talking about Hitchcock or Freud._

_What? How'd you know that?_

_Skill. And total immersion in muggle culture when I was in hiding._

_Why? No, don't answer. Anyway, they say that Potter's just repressed all his grief over Ginny's death._

_And that's not gossip?_

_No. It's fact. Romantic, huh?_

The Man Who Conquered read his newspaper. He knew that he should really stop. The _whispers_ were getting to him. They weren't true. The rumors weren't true. At least his wife Ellen didn't know.

There was one headline about cleaning up the Ministry. Hah. Rebuilding the Ministry more like. Reconstructing it out of the dust and ashes left by the fifth goddamn uprising of _Voldemort_.

Made from dust, it is. To dust it will return.

Annie came down the stairs that led into the kitchen, yawn stretching her little five year old face.

"Hey, sweet," Harry said and glanced up from his paper.

"Hi, Daddy," she replied, and climbed onto his lap. "Could you read the funnies to me?"

"Wait until Sasha comes down, all right? You know she likes to listen too."

"Okay!" Anne wriggled off his lap and dashed up the stairs. Harry heard a distant voice yell across the house "SASHA! COME DOWNSTAIRS!" and then two pairs of dashing feet approached. Two breathless girls appeared in the kitchen. Harry patted his lap in invitation. They clambered on and he began.

"In the first panel, Anthony yells – look at the big words there, see? – he yells 'STOP!' " Harry yelled when the character yelled. "And down there May is saying, really quietly, 'Don't, Anthony! It's if you don't shout!' "

"Daddy, you skipped a word," Sasha pointed out.

"No I didn't," Harry replied and scanned the panel again. "No, see? 'Don't – Anthony – it's – if – you – don't – shout.' "

"But you keep on skipping over 'better,' " Sasha argued, but closed her mouth when her younger sister elbowed her in the side.

"What do I keep skipping over?"

"Nothing," Anne chirped, and gave Harry her brightest smile. "Go on, please."

"Very well. Then Ellen – see her in the corner there? – says 'Yes, it is.' – "

"You – " Sasha began to interrupt but stopped again at another nudge from Anne.

Harry gave them both a quick hug and returned to holding the newspaper.

"Oh, and then Gretchen – " Harry pointed to the motherly, scolding, rather hefty figure in the second panel, " – says, 'Stop. Well, I bet that _Harry Potter_ doesssssssssssssssssssssss – " His voice trailed off into a hiss, and his hands clenched on the paper; it took an effort to relax (they weren't _true_) and continue. " – 'doesn't yell like both of you two.' Hey, so news has reached to those backwater parts, eh? The author of this one lives on the tundra in Alaska."

Worried, Anne and Sasha traded looks at their father's fake smile and attempt at comforting them. "I guess, Daddy," Anne said rather dubiously, and he grinned at her.

"I'm bored," Sasha announced, overriding whatever anyone else had been about to say. "I'm going to find Elle and play with her."

"All right," Harry answered. He let her off his lap (to _dust_ again). "And could you not tell Mummy about what Gretchen said? You know she doesn't like that kind of stuff."

"Fine," Sasha said and brushed it off. She began to run upstairs.

"And don't wake Mummy up! You know she doesn't get much chance to sleep late!"

"Daddy," Anne said, once Sasha was gone.

"Yes?"

Anne thought for a little while. "Everyone talks about you."

"What do they say?"

"That you're crazy."

"Do I look crazy, sweetie?" _The _whispers _were getting to him. They weren't true. The rumors weren't true._

"Nooooo…"

"I don't think I'm crazy, sweetie. Don't ask Mummy, though, all right? She shouldn't have so much pressure put on her."

"All right."

"Why don't you go find Sasha and Elle?"

"All right, Daddy." She too slipped off his lap. When she was halfway up the stairs, she turned around. "I don't think you're crazy, Daddy," she called, and dashed the rest of the way.

Harry just put his head on his (_dust _again and again and _again_) fist and _they weren't true._ They _weren't_ true. They weren't _true_.

They weren't true. They weren't true. They weren't true

they weren't true

they weren't true they

weren't true they weren't

true they weren't true they weren't true true true true

weren't true they weren't they true they weren't they weren't true no they weren't no! true weren't – they weren't true –

_**Give her Veritaserum, then maybe she'll talk.**_

_**Hah, all she'll talk about is that damn hero.**_

**_Hn, whatever. _**

_**What's your name?**_

_Ginny Weasley. _

_**Who is Harry Potter?**_

_My husband. _

_**Wow, he's her husband. **_

_**Must've been done in secret. **_

_**Hah, what do you want to say to him right now?**_

_That I love him and to go on living and marry again and have children when I die. _

_**He'll be marrying again soon, then, Weasley. **_

_**Hah. **_

_**Avada Kedavra.**_

Harry surreptitiously cast a little fire with the tip of his wand. It was the same color as the Killing Curse. He watched in fascination as it ate up the newspaper and left ashes (and again to _ashes_ and to _dust_)in its place. They shouldn't be wasted – Harry dumped them into the garden. They would be useful again? Something made of dust. And then again it would be dust. Again. To dust.

They weren't true.

_Oh, Harry Harry Harry – what have you done to yourself?_

I was just doing what you wanted. Your last wish, Ginny. Under Veritaserum you said that you wanted me to remarry and have children.

_You were listening to that? Oh, Harry Harry Harry – Veritaserum doesn't say it all. That's what I imagined I would say. Thought I would say. But I knew deep down where that truth potion doesn't touch that it was the wrong thing to say. That it would make you like this._

Harry woke – or maybe fell asleep – and above him he saw Ginny. The tips of her red hair brushed against his face and he smelled that flowery perfume that she had worn in Hogwarts; her face was as freckled as it was then too. And the callused soul inside of her when she died had been worn down to soft purity and her brown eyes shone with it. She caressed his face with the lightest of touches.

'Ginny,' he breathed and reached up with quaking fingers to brush his thumb across the bridge of her nose, as he used to – and everything else fell away.

No longer was he painfully neurotic, tied down to everything that he wanted but not quite – no longer did his deepest desire elude him.

Ginny sighed a long, deep sigh and lay down beside Harry, _her_ Harry. Not the haunted, obsessive, tortured Harry, but the boy who didn't like blackberry jelly because he imagined the thorns. The Harry that she loved.

And now everyone she loved was here in the green green fields behind the ragged veil, and both rolled on and on and on for all eternity.

**A/N(#2!!): Thank you for sticking through. Drop me a word? I adore feedback with all of my heart.**


End file.
